Denial
by just-harri
Summary: "There was nothing to do but stare. Not at Potter, of course; definitely not at Potter. He was simply staring because he had nothing else to do. Yes, that was why." Somewhat one-sided Drarry. Featuring self-deluding!Draco/oblivious!Harry. Drabble.


**Denial**

**By: Just_Harri**

**Type: Drabble, Oneshot**

**Warnings: Slash, Somewhat one-sided Draco/Harry**

**Don't like? Don't read!**

**Disclaimer: All rights to Queen Rowling.**

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Draco Malfoy hated a lot of things- not the least of which was winter.

He hated the cold. He hated how the sweat chilled the back of his neck, how the touch of red marred his usually immaculate complexion, and how the wind messed up his hair with every breath.

If it were possible, he wouldn't hesitate to hex the living daylights out of the weather for even daring to snow on a Hogsmeade weekend. What was it to him that everyone else spent their time crooning about how beautiful it was? Hell, he would probably hex the daylights out of them, too.

Steel-grey eyes glared daggers at the group of Gryffindors walking ahead of him, laughing and catching the softly falling snowflakes on their tongues. Granger had somehow managed to cram her frizzy brown curls into an altogether too colorful hat, and Weasley had a blue scarf wrapped about his neck which clashed horribly with his awful red hair.

Potter was there too, of course, but Draco was trying very hard not to notice him.

The small boy had his face lifted to the sky, green eyes closed in bliss, a pink color dusting his cheeks. Had circumstances been different, he, Crabbe and Goyle would probably be pelting the oblivious "Golden Trio" with snowballs- however; both his lackeys scored a detention that afternoon, so he was on his own. Figures. Knowing he was outnumbered, there was nothing to do but stare.

…Not at Potter, of course; definitely not at Potter. He was simply staring because he had nothing else to do. Yes, that was why.

Draco clenched his jaw as an icy blast of wind drew an involuntary shudder from him, mentally cursing Mother Nature to bits. He hated the cold, and hated the snow- but what he hated the most was what it did to Potter.

…Not that he was looking, of course.

He hated how Potter's gloved hands kept coming up to wipe the snowflakes off his glasses. He hated that he would smile and laugh when Weasley made a horrible, stale joke. He hated that when Potter gave an almost kitten-like sneeze, the boy's glasses were knocked askew on his face, and Granger immediately began crooning about how adorable he was.

Seeing Potter being fawned over by Granger of all people made him feel lots of things- disgust, anger, and nausea- but certainly not jealousy. He wasn't _jealous_. Not in the slightest.

It wasn't like _he_ wanted to be the one to right Potter's glasses on his face. It wasn't like _he_ wanted to be close enough to see the snowflakes on the boy's eyelashes. And it certainly wasn't as if _he'd_ wanted to kiss the delicate pink off of Potter's soft lips…

Draco scoffed at that thought. Whoever wanted _that_ from the "boy wonder" was pathetic.

Of course, in a purely figurative sense, his mind deduced that it would be _somewhat_ of a pleasure to physically teach the much-too-carefree boy his place; to pin him against any vertical surface and _show_ him who he belonged to. To see the innocent green eyes widen, something almost like fear glinting within the depths.

Draco found himself grinning savagely at the thought. To have the Chosen One completely at your mercy; to show him once and for all whom his betters were. He allowed himself to fantasize for a moment; but only out of pure hatred. There was definitely nothing else. Nothing about Potter with his innocent eyes and his broken glasses all wrapped up in a scarf; was _attractive_ to Draco. Absolutely not.

…But then what was the ache when he watched Weasley put his arm around him? What was the anger when he watched them laugh? Was the pain of watching him smile fondly at his friends his heart secretly wishing that, for once, it would be directed at him…?

Draco shook his head violently to banish the thoughts. Him, _Jealous?_ Of Weasley and Granger? The very thought not only made him scoff at his own audacity, but nauseated him considerably as well. _Don't be silly, _he told himself. _You don't want Potter. You don't want to hold him, or see him smile, and you _definitely_ don't want to kiss him. You hate Potter. You hate everything about him._

Satisfied with his self-reassurance, he went back to staring at the Gryffindors.

But not at Potter.

Definitely not at Potter.

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